


show me a place i can realize love (not your illusion)

by actualtaracole (freaking_intelligent_fangirl)



Category: Baseball RPF, Washington Nationals - Fandom
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Future Fic, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, No Homophobia, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 18:04:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17268863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freaking_intelligent_fangirl/pseuds/actualtaracole
Summary: The Nationals are in Las Vegas celebrating their World Series win. Anthony Rendon wakes up and finds out that he and Trea Turner got drunkenly married the night before. What could go wrong?





	show me a place i can realize love (not your illusion)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone in the MLBNet Discord for their help with this. I would have never gotten it done without y'all and your encouragement. An extra big thanks to Corl for the beta and fixing my inability to write in one tense. This is my longest piece of completed writing by far and also the most fun I've had writing something in a long time. Title is from Illusion by Zedd and Echosmith.

Tony doesn’t so much wake up as realize that he sadly still inhabits a physical body, a body that is not happy with him and the amount of drinking he had done the night before. He cracks one eye open and groans at the sunlight that hits him in the face. He rolls over onto his back and throws an arm over his eyes. He knows that he should get up, close the blinds, eat something, and maybe, definitely, shower, but between the pounding in his head and the comfortable bed in his ridiculously expensive hotel suite he is content to lay there for a few more minutes.

He dozes again, in and out in that bizarre space where he can dream but isn’t fully asleep. Flashes of memories float to the surface as he dozes, mixing with his dreams in a way that he can’t fully recognize what’s a dream and what’s a memory.

_“Michael Taylor is going back and back! This is gonna be a hard catch to make folks! He reaches up and HE’S GOT IT! MICHAEL A. TAYLOR HAS CAUGHT THE BALL AND THE NATIONALS HAVE WON THE 2019 WORLD SERIES!”_

_“Victor Robles with a clutch RBI single to score Juan Soto and Trea Turner! The Nationals lead the Brewers 4-3 in game 5 of the NLCS!”_

_“Well I now pronounce you man and… man! Congrats on your hunka hunka burnin’ love y’all.”_

_He can see Amanda and her wife sitting next to his parents, all four jumping and screaming as he trots around the bases. A grand slam in the World Series is something every kid dreams about, and precious few ever actually do. He sees Trea standing at the top of the dugout, screaming louder than everyone else and Tony knows he has a ridiculous smile on his face._

_Trea is giggling and leaning up against him as Tony struggles to open the door to his hotel room. He smells like sweat and champagne and victory. “I can’t believe we did that,” he slurs, stumbling after Tony into the hotel room after he successfully gets the door open. Tony trips over his own feet, a testament to how much he’s had to drink, and lands on his ass. Trea sits down next to him with slightly more grace._

_“You can’t believe we won a World Series or you can’t believe that we got married?” Trea doesn’t answer, just kisses him before they fall into bed together, too drunk and too tired to do anything but fall asleep next to each other, fully clothed and on top of the sheets._

He wakes up, for real this time, when he can’t ignore how badly he needs to pee anymore. He gets out of bed, careful not to disturb Trea, eyes still half closed to block out the sunlight, and shuffles to the bathroom. He turns the lights on to wash his hands and flexes his fingers to get some feeling back in them. His circulation always goes to shit when he’s been drinking, and his World Series ring feels too tight. He looks at it, and his mouth goes dry when he sees Turner engraved on the side. That would explain why it’s too tight, Trea’s fingers are longer and a little thinner than his, but what he can’t explain is why he’s wearing Trea’s World Series ring. That’s not something that people do, swap rings like that. World Series rings are almost sacred, no one in their right mind switches rings.

But that makes sense, he reasons, he and Trea weren’t in their right minds last night; they were both drunk out of their minds. He runs his hands under hot water and works the ring off his finger. He pulls it off and hears a _clink_ as something drops in the sink. All of the calm he usually has disappears as he fishes a silver engagement band out of the basin. He puts both rings on the countertop with exaggerated care, braces himself against the edge of the sink, closes his eyes and breathes deeply. All things considered separately, him wearing Trea’s ring, an engagement ring, Trea sleeping in his bed, wouldn’t mean very much, but taken together… there’s only one thing that Tony can think of. They are in Las Vegas after all.

“Fuck,” he says, taking another deep breath. “ _Fuck_.” He digs around in his pants pockets, hoping against hope that he fell asleep with his phone in his jeans. No such luck. He takes a few more deep breaths, steeling himself for the possibility of Trea being awake and walks out of the bathroom, rings in hand, quieter than he’s ever been in his life. 

The universe decides to take pity on him a little, because Trea is still asleep when he walks back into the bedroom, and his phone is charging on the nightstand. He grabs his phone and checks for any messages or headlines. Nothing.

He wants to call Zim, Mikey, Sean, Howie, _anybody_. At this point he’d call Juan and hope that the kid has any idea what he and Trea got up to last night. But he doesn’t have any missed calls or texts, so it’s entirely possible that the rest of the team doesn’t know. If that’s the case Tony isn’t going to go around and tell everyone. He puts his phone down and resolves to deal with this himself, first by switching back his and Trea’s World Series rings and by taking off Trea’s engagement band. Neither should be hard, his ring is big on Trea and the engagement bands are laughably cheap, if the green ring around Tony’s finger is any indication.

He briefly feels bad as he wiggles his ring off Trea’s finger, but he shoves those emotions down before they have a chance to fully surface. Sure he and Trea sleep together, but so does everyone in the league. It’s an open secret that over half the MLB is gay, bi, or “heteroflexible.” It’s not a surprise to anyone either, shove a bunch of guys and only guys together, make them spend half the year together in close confines, and you’re bound to get gay players, casual sex, and relationships of all sorts. Everyone knows at least the barest details of what went down with Joe Kelly and the pitching and catching staff after their World Series win.

For the majority of guys, it’s casual sex. There are relationships, and serious ones too, but it’s hard to start or justify a relationship when the possibility of one of you getting sent to the other side of the country on what feels like a whim looms over almost the entire league. Plus, if one person has feelings and the other doesn’t, it could seriously mess up team dynamics. Break ups are always messy, and they don’t get cleaner or easier if you have to see the other person every day.

At least, that’s what Tony tells himself, to justify not telling Trea that he’s completely gone for him. And since he knows that Trea doesn’t feel the same way, it’s easy to keep his mouth shut. If he said something, and they started a serious relationship, something more than rooming together and occasionally having sex on top of being best friends, and either of them got traded, it would break Tony in two. So he stays quiet, and shoves the voice in his head that says he should tell Trea and stay married into a locked box in the back of his mind.

He’s got Trea’s shitty engagement ring off and is sliding his Series ring off when Trea wakes up.

“Tony?” he mumbles. “Whatcha doin’?” Tony freezes.

“Uh nothing. I’m not doing anything man. Just got back to sleep,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant. He looks down and drops Trea’s hand like he’s been electrocuted and runs his hand through his hair. The Series ring that was on Trea’s finger falls on the bed between them.

“Tony,” he says, sitting up, with the patient tone of voice one would use with a problematic child. “Why were you taking my Series ring?”

“I wasn’t!”

Trea looks at him, and then down at the ring on the bed.

“Dude, it’s fine you just gotta tell me what you were doing with my ring. I worked hard for this ya know.” He picks up the ring, turns it over, looks at it and then looks at Tony.

“Wait. Why do I have your ring? What happened to mine?” Before Tony can answer Trea all but leaps off the bed, turns on the light, and starts pulling at the still made sheets.

“Trea. Man what’re you doing?”

“What the fuck does it look like man? I’m looking for my World Series ring! You know they don’t make replacements or some shit for stuff like this. Oh god what if I left it in one of the bars or casinos we were at last night? What’d you think the chances are that someone found it and turned it in? I could probably call ‘em all and ask but god I don’t even remember where we went after the third bar last night. What if…”

Tony stares at Trea helplessly for a moment while his rambling grows increasingly more panicked. The engagement bands and Trea’s World Series ring is burning a hole in his pocket and he doesn’t see a way out of this that doesn’t end with tears or hurt feelings.

“Trea, man, calm down,” he says, reaching for Trea as he flips the pillows over for the third time in as many minutes. Trea stills when Tony puts his hand around his wrist. He takes a deep breath and pulls Trea’s World Series ring and both engagement bands out of this jeans pocket and holds them in his open palm. Trea stares at the rings and then looks at him, his face blank. Tony doesn’t babble much, he’s a guy of few words by design, but between Trea’s blank stare and the hurricane of emotions inside him he starts talking and doesn’t stop.

“So I had these really super weird dreams last night about an Elvis or an Elvis impersonator but I figured it was just because we’re in Vegas and Elvis is everywhere but then I woke up this morning because I had to pee, I mean I really had to pee man and I was wearing your World Series ring and one of these silver rings but I didn’t really notice except your Series ring was a little too tight but I figured my hands were shot from drinking but then the other ring fell off in the sink, it’s super cheap man, turned both of our fingers green, and I realized that I was wearing your Series ring and so maybe the dreams weren’t really dreams so I was trying to switch our rings back before you woke up but obviously that didn’t work,” he stops and takes a deep breath. “And I think we might have gotten married last night.”

“What,” is all Trea says.

“I think we might have gotten married last night. At some drive through chapel.”

“Why were you going to switch our rings?”

“Well I was gonna switch rings before you woke up and then try and… get it fixed before we left.”

“Get it fixed how?” Trea’s still blank faced, and that worries Tony more than if he had been yelling and screaming. Trea’s always so expressive that seeing him like this is putting Tony on edge.

“I was gonna, I dunno, get it annulled or something, before we went back home.” Trea’s blank mask breaks for a second, a million and a half emotions flashing across his face before he goes back to being stony faced. He stares at Tony for a second longer, eyes roaming his face. He must find what he’s looking for, because he takes his World Series ring and, after a moment’s hesitation, the engagement band out of Tony’s outstretched hand.

“If you need me to help with… whatever, just let me know.” He leaves without another word, the door slamming behind him. In the empty hotel room Tony can’t help but feel like he made a mistake somewhere. He sits on his bed for a while, before his stomach growls. It’s past noon, he’s missed breakfast with the guys, even though he doubts that many of them made it. He wasn’t the only one who had an ungodly amount to drink last night.

“Probably the only one who got married though,” he mutters to himself with a dark chuckle. He runs his hand through his hair and orders room service. It’s an odd feeling, eating alone in his hotel room. It’s a suite, better suited to three or four people than just one, but apparently management doesn’t mind spending money when you win the World Series. He does his best to ignore the lingering feeling that Trea should be with him.

He feels more human and less like a walking headache after he’s eaten and downed a pot of coffee. But he’s thirsty and he can’t stand the taste of Vegas water, so he grabs his key card, leaves him room and walks to the vending machine down the hall.

“Acuña?” he asks, and the twenty-one year old in question freezes, his arms full of sodas. “Qué haces aquí?” He turns around smiles at him.

“Just hanging?” He tries. Tony raises an eyebrow at him and Acuña looks abruptly looks like a guilty child hiding from his parents. It reminds Tony that even though he’s all of twenty nine years old, he’s nearly a decade older than Acuña. He all of a sudden feels very old.

“I’m not your dad Ronnie, I’m not gonna tell on you or anything. It’s just that our front office rented out the hotel for us, and as cool as you are kid, you aren’t a Nat.” Acuña snorts.

“Gracia a Dios por eso,” he says, rolling his eyes. Tony punches him in the arm and Acuña drops his soda in an effort to hit him back. “I’m here with Juan,” he says as he picks up the soda. Tony reaches down and grabs the last bottle, putting it back in Acuña’s arms. He ignores the hollow pang in his chest at the kid’s words. Of course he’s here with Juan. He had been at every game of the Series, all the games in New York and in DC, cheering with everyone else’s family and friends. It makes sense, they’d been close since the exhibition games in Japan last winter. He smiles at Acuña.

“Good for you kid,” he says, and he genuinely means it. Those two are good for each other, they both understand the unique pressures of being young and faces of franchises with large fan bases and lofty ambitions. “Make sure you use protection though.” He gets to see Acuña blush and splutter before he turns and walks back to his hotel room, Acuña yelling at him in Spanish the whole way. He’s back in his hotel room before he remembers that he had left in search of water, but he and the ever widening hole in his chest can’t stomach the idea of going back and running into Acuña again. He’s got amazing friends, an even better family, and most importantly a team he would go to war for, but sometimes he’s so damn _lonely_.

His hotel suite echoes around him, big and grand and empty. He shakes his head like he’s clearing away cobwebs and walks across his room. He’s going to shower, he’s going to call one of his teammates, and he is going to have a good time because damn it, he earned it.

Sean doesn’t answer when Tony calls as he’s getting out of the shower, but Mikey picks up on the first ring.

“Hey man,” he says an excited edge to his voice. “I didn’t think you’d call me but I’m glad you did!”

“Well I’m glad you answered. Listen, you busy? This suite is nice but it’s empty and we got a whole city out there calling our names.”

“Empty? You’re alone?”

“Yeah man, not all of us can swim in groupies ya know?” he says with a chuckle.

“I know, I just thought… never mind. I was gonna go down to the game room and play whatever they had down there but getting out into civilization with you sounds like a lot more fun.”

“Awesome, I’ll meet you in the lobby in ten minutes?”

“Sounds good dude.” They hang up and Tony finishes getting dressed. He takes a long look at the silver engagement band sitting on the table in the entryway to his suite before sliding his World Series ring on his finger and closing his door behind him with a resounding **thud**.

Trea is laying on his bed, arm outstretched, staring at the dull glint of his cheap engagement ring compared to the shine of his World Series ring. He’s not sure if he overreacted in Tony’s room earlier, he thought he had given a very measured response to his heart cracking in two, but the more he thinks about it the surer he is that he fucked up.

It’s not Tony’s fault, he knows that. Tony doesn’t know he’s been half in love with him since the first time he got called up. He had been so excited, finally playing in the big leagues, and Tony had smiled him and showed him around, and Trea was gone. He had been dating Kristen then, a relationship that didn’t last very long after Tony introduced her to Amanda. They had amicably broken up, and then Trea had gotten hurt.

Tony had taken it upon himself then to make sure that Trea didn’t feel useless, expendable; always coming by his apartment with beer and stories of the guys. They’d gone out for drinks once Trea had been cleared to start rehabbing with the PNats, one thing had led to another, and well. Trea had known then it was a bad idea to sleep with his best friend, his best friend that he was more than a little in love with, but he had never been good at telling himself no.

He knows that Tony thinks he acted out of character when he had tried to explain himself, and he knows that Tony was only trying to do what he thought was best. They were best friends with benefits. Tony loved him, maybe not in the way Trea wanted him too, but he loved him, and drunkenly getting married while you were celebrating a World Series win was enough to make any friendship uncomfortable, no matter how close you were. It was why Trea had never told Tony how he felt, even though Kristen kept telling him to. He knew that Tony didn’t feel the same way, and Trea valued their friendship too much to fuck it up because of unrequited romantic feelings.

_Are they really unrequited?_ A traitorous voice in the back of his head said. _Whose idea was it to get hitched? If it was mine why did he go along with it? Is there enough liquor in the world for someone to get drunk enough to marry someone they don’t have feelings for? What if it was his idea?_

He groaned at his own imagination as he rolled over, face down in the mountain of pillows on his bed. He lays like that for some indeterminable amount of time until his phone rings. He reaches blindly for it, answering and putting it to his ear without lifting his face from the pillow.

“Hello?” he says, muffled.

“Are you hungover? I mean I know there’s a time difference and everything but it’s pretty late in the day to still be hungover.” Trea sits up and looks at his phone. Kristen is smiling back at him and he almost cries he’s so happy to see her.

“Hey Kris,” he says, getting out of bed and walking to the kitchen in his insane suite.

“Hey yourself, and that doesn’t answer my question.” Trea rolls his eyes as he turns on the light and opens his fridge.

“You know I don’t get hungover.”

“Yeah I do, and I hate you for it.” He grins at her and props his phone up on the counter.

“Where’s Amanda and the baby?” he asks as he starts putting together a sandwich.

“They’re at a Gymboree class. I was supposed to go with them but got held up at the gym. And why the hell are you making a sandwich? Isn’t room service included in your all expenses paid bar crawl?”

“Hey!” Trea says around a mouthful of sandwich. Kristen gags. “It’s not just a bar crawl,” he says after he swallows.

“Really?” she asks, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “What else have you and your boys done besides drink?”

“Oh you know,” Trea says the indignation gone from him. “Things.” He waves his hand, his Series ring glinting in the light and his… other ring still gleaming.

“Things?”

“Yeah. Things.” He puts his half eaten sandwich down, appetite forgotten.

“Hey,” Kristen says, concern in her voice. “What’s wrong? And before you try and something stupid like lie to me and say that nothing is wrong, let me remind you that I am a new mother and have exactly no patience for things outside of my wife and my child.”

“Really Kris, nothing’s wrong.”

“Trea Vance Turner. I will fly across the country to Las Vegas and kick your ass. Maybe if I’m feeling magnanimous I’ll bring Amanda and Gracie as my good cops. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Kristen, I promise. It’s nothing,” he says, not meeting her eyes.

“Is this about Anthony?” Trea tenses.

“Why would you say that?” he asks, still not looking at her on the display.

“A shot in the dark. I’m glad I was right though.”

“Aren’t Amanda and Graciela supposed to be home soon?” he asks in a desperate attempt to change the subject. Kris, as usual, sees right through him.

“Nope. And even if they were that wouldn’t get you out of telling me what’s wrong, especially if it involves Tony. He’s Amanda’s best friend, anything that involves him involves her. Now stop stalling and _talk to me_.” Trea takes a deep breath in and lets out a shaky exhale. He looks at Kris, her concern for him written plainly on her face, and tells her everything. Kristen listens to his story in silence, absorbing everything and occasionally making a sympathetic noise.

“I just don’t know what to do Kris. I mean, I love him,” he says, the admission coming out of him like ripping off a band aid.

“Oh sweetheart. I know you do.”

“Wait, you do? How? For how long? Does anyone else know? Does Amanda know?”

“Trea, I love you, but you are one of the least subtle men on the planet, and that’s saying something. But you are even less subtle when you have feelings for someone.”

“Hey I can be subtle!”

“You gave me a half dozen roses to ask me out for coffee… in college. You aren’t subtle. At all. Ever.”

Trea takes his phone off the counter and walks into the next room, flopping onto the sofa.

“So you and Amanda know. Do you think the guys know?” Kris’s silence is the answer he needs. “Well fuck,” he says with feeling.

“Maybe you should talk to them. See if they can help you unfuck this situation, any of them is bound to have a better perspective than I do. I know I’m your best friend and you would die without me, but I don’t spend everyday with you for more than half the year.”

“Well that’s sure to be a fun conversation.”

“Oh I’m sure. You just gotta remember that you aren’t subtle. The guys probably knew before you did.”

“Thanks Kris. For everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’re welcome hon. You know I’m always here for you. Go talk to your boys.”

“Say hi to Amanda and the baby for me.”

“Of course. Love you, and try to enjoy the rest of your team sponsored vacation. You deserve it.” He smiles at her before she hangs up on him. Kristen worries her lip between her teeth for a moment before dialing Eireann.

“Hey Kris,” Erica answers. “Eireann’s busy working on grad school stuff, but I’ve been meaning to call you and ask how Gracie was for a couple days, so I figured I’d steal her phone.”

“The baby’s fine. She and Amanda are due home from Gymboree class any minute. Is Eireann really too busy to talk?”

“She’s two books, three articles, and about fifteen chrome tabs deep into the paper she’s writing, so I’d say yeah, a little busy. Are you okay? You sound stressed.”

Kris paces for a minute, weighing her answer. She loves Erica, she’s like the older sister she never had, and she knows that Erica and Max talk regularly, but she doesn’t know if Max knows about Trea and Tony and she doesn’t want to spread Trea’s business around. She sits heavily on the couch in her living room.

“When was the last time you talked to Max?”

“Last night. Why?”

“What did he tell you?”

“He was drunk,” Erica starts, and Kris is insanely grateful that Erica doesn’t keep needling her. “He was telling me some story from last season. All the boys were congratulating Tony on hooking up with someone, a guy on the Royals, and Trea had stormed out halfway through them teasing Tony about it. He was talking nonsense after that though, congratulating Zim and Mikey on finally fixing it. He never told me just what the three of them had fixed though. Does that help?”

“Yes, that helps. It helps so so much. I owe you big time Erica.”

“Should I tell ’Rinn about this when I rescue her from grad school work?”

“Not yet. I have a feeling that all of this is gonna come to a head soon.”

“Okay. Whatever you say Kris. Call me back when Amanda and Graciela are home. ’Rinn and I both wanna talk to them.”

“You got it. And thanks, again.” Kristen hangs up and stares at her phone, a laugh bubbling up in her throat.

“Babe! We’re home!” shouts Amanda a moment later, closing the door behind her. Kristen goes to meet her wife, gives her a kiss, and picks her baby up out of the stroller she’s in.

“I wanna hear all about class and my baby girl being the smartest little girl there is, but first Manda, do I have a story to tell you.”

 

“Do you think we did the right thing?” Mikey asks Zim, much later that day, picking at the label of his beer bottle.

“Well,” says Zim. “I don’t think we did the wrong thing. I mean they aren’t actually married, and with the amount I paid the people working at that dive of a chapel no sleazy paparazzi are gonna get their hands on pictures they shouldn’t have.”

“It still feels dishonest.”

“Good,” says Max, sliding into the booth next to Zim, Gio following behind him. “That’s because it is dishonest.”

“But it’s dishonesty in the service of good. Getting those two to pull their heads out of their asses can only lead to good things,” Gio says, his hand on Max’s knee.

“Oh please,” Mikey says as Zim makes a disbelieving noise before taking a drink from his beer bottle. “You’re one to talk. It took you getting traded for your boyfriend over here to stop being so damn obstinate and admit that he had feelings for you.”

“Exactly,” says Max. “I don’t want that to happen to either of them.”

“It won’t,” says Zim. “Because neither of them are gonna get traded. So in the absence of a drastic circumstance like that we just… had to create one.”

“I don’t know y’all,” Mikey says. “Tony wasn’t himself when we were together earlier, and not in the way I expected him to be. He wasn’t wearing his awful engagement band, and he was wearing his World Series ring. Not to mention I haven’t seen or heard anything from Trea all day.”

The other three frown.

“Has anyone heard anything from Trea?” Zim asks. Max opens his mouth to answer when his phone rings.

“Hey Erica,” he says after he answers it. “Yeah I’m here with some of the guys.” Erica says something the rest of them can’t hear. “Uh Zim, Mikey, and Gio.” Erica says something else and Max takes the phone from his ear, puts it on speaker, and sets it on the table.

“Hey Erica,” they chorus.

“What the hell did you all do to Trea last night?” she asks, judgement clear in her voice. Mikey chokes on his beer while Zim and Max look sheepish. Even on the other side of the country, they’re all a little afraid of Erica.

“What do you mean?” Gio asks, glaring at his old teammates when none of the rest of them speak up.

“You know what? I changed my mind. I don’t want to know. But I had a very interesting phone call with Kristen earlier today and if Kristen knows something then I’m sure Amanda does too. And if it involves Kristen, it involves Trea, which means it also involves Tony. I’m sure you four had good reasons for doing whatever the hell you did, but make sure it doesn’t blow up in all your faces.” She pauses for a moment. “If it does blow up, you have to answer to me, Eireann, Kristen, and Amanda. Consider your choices boys, and choose wisely.” She hangs up on them and the four men seated at the table look at the phone on the table, and then at each other.

“Well fuck,” Zim says.

 

Tony wakes up early the next morning, they only have three days left in Vegas, and he needs to take care of this mess before they leave. He thinks back to Trea’s blank face when he told him that they had gotten married, to the way he had all but run out of Tony’s room, and tries to convince himself that he’s making the right choice. He knows that the county clerk’s office won’t close any time soon, so he takes his time eating breakfast at the hotel restaurant. He’s lingering over his last pancake and cup of coffee when Gio, Max, Zim, and Mikey all burst through the doors, identical frantic looks on their faces. Gio sees him and starts walking, the other three following behind him. Zim sits in the seat across from Tony while the other three congregate behind him, all trying to look casual and failing miserably. Tony stares at them, sipping his coffee.

“Would you three like something to eat, something to drink? Maybe some chairs?” Tony’s waitress asks.

“We’re okay, thank you though,” says Zim, smiling at her.

“So,” Tony says after she walks away. “What’s up y’all?” There’s a beat of silence before all four of them start talking at once.

“Tony man we need to talk,” says Gio.

“What are you doing today?” asks Mikey.

“You talked to Trea recently?” asks Max.

“What do you remember from the night before last?” asks Zim.

Tony looks at his teammates.

“What did y’all do?”

“Why don’t we take this, somewhere… less public?” Max says.

“As much as I’d love to hear about whatever foolishness y’all got into I’ve got other things to do today,” he puts his tip on the table and stands. Max and Gio move to block his path.

“We really should talk man. Whatever you gotta do, it can wait.”

 

“So… you’re telling me that it was just a prank?” Tony asks, a little while later, staring at his teammates in his hotel room. “Not only did you _know_ , but you knew it was fake? And didn’t bother to tell either of us?” Tony doesn’t get angry easily, but he can feel his temper starting to rise, staring at the guilty faces of the people he thought were his friends. He turns to Mikey. “You,” he says pointing. “We were together almost all day yesterday, and you didn’t think to say anything to me?”

“Tony,” Mikey starts, a pained look on his face.

“No save it, all of you. I don’t want your excuses or your justifications. You can’t just mess with people’s feelings like that! Especially since you knew… whatever. It doesn’t matter.” He takes a deep breath. “Just… get out. All four of you.” Mikey and Gio open their mouths to protest, but Max and Zim nod. They herd the other two out of his room, and Zim shoots an apologetic look back at Tony.

“If you wanna talk about it later man, you know where I am.” he closes the door behind him and Tony collapses back onto the large sectional they had all been sitting on. He has no idea why the four of them would do something like this to him. There’s harmless practical jokes, or even slightly harmful practical jokes that they’re all fond of, but this is just… beyond the pale for Tony. They all know how he feels about Trea, hell it feels like everyone except for Trea knows how he feels about him.

“Oh shit,” Tony says, sitting up. “I gotta tell Trea.” He bolts out of his room to the elevator, barely remembering to grab his key card from the table in the hallway before the door closes behind him. The two floor elevator ride can’t take more than a minute and a half, but it feels like an eternity. He gets to Trea’s door and freezes before he knocks. He has no idea what he’s supposed to say. He’s not that articulate at the best of times, and this is a situation where he has to weigh his words carefully, or risk further damage to their friendship. Maybe he’ll get lucky and he’ll think of something when he’s face to face with Trea. He raises his hand and knocks on his door.

“Trea,” he says. “Trea, man you in there? We gotta talk.” He doesn’t get an answer, but he can hear someone moving inside the suite. He sighs. “Alright man, that’s cool, I get it. I know you’ve been avoiding me, which is fair because I guess I’ve been avoiding you too, but… man I really hope you’re in there and I’m not about to tell this to some thief or hotel staff.”

“Look,” he continues. “You know I’m not the best with expressing my thoughts like some dudes are, and I get why you’ve been avoiding me. It was a super awkward situation, thinking we were drunk enough to get married when we… I don’t know. But it turns out that the guys, well, not all of ‘em, but Zim and Max and Gio and Mikey took us to the chapel but made sure that nothing was, uh official or whatever. Which was cool of ‘em I guess. Saved me an embarrassing trip to the county clerk’s office, even though I’m sure they get cases like that all time. Vegas ya know?” He chuckles. “So the truth is, I…”

_I love you_ , he wants to say. _I’m sorry that this happened, but I’m not because it’s all I want. I have a World Series ring but I never would have gotten it without you. I love you, I’ve loved you for years, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you_. But he doesn’t say any of that. Instead he takes a deep breath and says;

“I mean you’re my best friend man. It’s us, ya know? I value our friendship too much to let some… stupid prank by our drunk teammates ruin what we’ve got. So, take all the time you want, but, I don’t know, don’t shut me out forever. Okay?” He’s met with silence. He blinks back the tears he didn’t notice were forming, knocks once more on the door to his room, and walks away.

Trea stands, frozen in his spot at the door and listens to his friend, his _best friend_ tell him that they hadn’t actually been married, that it was a prank. A prank their teammates had pulled on them. It feels like some sort of sick joke, the way that it sounds like Tony is about to tell him that he loves him, but instead he says that they’re just friends, that they can’t let a “stupid prank” ruin that. Trea rips his hand off the doorknob like he’s been electrocuted. It shouldn’t hurt, it shouldn’t make Trea feel like someone ripped his heart out of his chest and yet. That is exactly what it feels like.

He knew, he always knew, that his pining was one sided, that Tony just saw him as his best friend, but between finally, _finally_ winning a World Series and now this, accidental fake marriage that his teammates concocted, all of his feelings have been dragged to the surface, and Tony’s kind rejection feels like the worst kind of heartbreak.

“‘Don’t shut me out forever’ he says,” Trea laughs. “As if I could.” He wants, he _needs_ , to talk to someone, tell them what happened and how much he’s hurting. But he won’t tell any of the guys, not when they were the ones who started this mess. Besides, the idea of going out and interacting with them, celebrating, seeing Tony and all the others laugh and joke and be happy… he can’t do it. His empty, cavernous hotel room stretches out in front of him, and Trea knows with absolute certainty that he can’t stay. They only have three days left in the trip, and everything’s been paid for, but he would rather be raked over hot coals than put on a happy face for everyone. He needs space. Space from his teammates, space from his expectations, space from Tony and space from his feelings. He pulls his suitcase out of his closet and starts throwing everything into it. In a matter of minutes he’s got everything packed and he spares a glance around to make sure he isn’t missing anything important. If he is he can call the hotel and ask for it back after he’s home. He checks out in a blur, thankful that he doesn’t run into any of the guys, and is halfway to the airport before he realizes that he should call someone and let them know that he left.

He leaves Davey a short voicemail, using a thin excuse about family matters for why he’s leaving, but hopefully he won’t pry until he’s home. He thinks about going home, going to his empty apartment in Raleigh and stewing in his feelings, alone and decides that he’d rather stay in Vegas than do that.

“What can I do for you sir?” asks the attendant at the American Airlines desk. Trea makes a decision.

“Yeah I need the next flight to Miami International Airport please.”

“Our soonest flight is leaving in forty-five minutes. The next flight after that is in three hours.”

“I’ll take the flight in forty-five minutes, thanks.” He checks his bags and sprints through the Vegas airport, passing more slot machines than should legally be allowed in an airport, and makes it to his gate as the flight attendant is making the final boarding call.

It’s a full flight, because of course it is; he’s stuck in a middle seat, because of course he is; and he didn’t think to spring for first class, because of course he didn’t. He gets a few funny glances, and he can feel people behind him taking pictures, but he’s got his noise cancelling headphones, a full phone battery, and no messages from Davey or the rest of the team asking where he’s gone. He settles in for a cross country flight and tries to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Time away will do him some good, and maybe he can get a half decent whiskey when the flight attendants come around for drinks.

He lands in Miami four and a half hours later, to much of the same weather he left behind in Vegas. He grabs his luggage, calls an Uber, and prays that he doesn’t get recognized. The universe must have decided to temporarily stop fucking with him because the entire drive passes in near silence. He thanks and tips the driver and rings the doorbell. He hears scuffling behind the door as someone looks through the peephole, and then the door opens.

“Trea?” Kristen asks. “What are you doing here?”

And Trea bursts into tears.

Some time later, after Trea tells Kristen and Amanda everything and they set him up in their guest room, they sit in their living room and talk while the sun sets through their windows.

“No offense sweetheart, but your best friend is dumber than cardboard if he thinks that Tony doesn’t have feelings for him,” says Amanda.

“Oh yeah? Then what does that make Tony then?”

“I’ve never said that he wasn’t an idiot, just that Trea is too.”

“What are we gonna do Manda?”

“We aren’t going to do anything.”

“What?!”

“Kris. This whole clusterfuck started because other, very well intentioned, people messed around in their relationship. Us meddling with it is only gonna make it worse. And besides, do you think either of them will really believe that their feelings aren’t unrequited unless they hear it from each other?”

“You’re right, but we can’t just not do anything.”

“No, that’s exactly what we’re gonna do.”

“Manda, they are stupid in love with each other and convinced that the other doesn’t care about them. What happens if neither of them decide to act? Then they’ll both be heartbroken and they’ll lose their friendship. I’m not okay with that, and I know you can’t be either.”

The two stare at each other for a long moment before Amanda sighs and rolls her eyes.

“Fine,” she says.

“Yes! You are the best and I adore you.” Kristen kisses her.

“I know and I know. Now,” Amanda leans forward. “What did you have in mind?”

 

Tony wakes up the next morning to a phone call from Amanda.

“Ello?” he says, voice still thick with sleep. No one answers. He sits up, rubbing his eyes. “Amanda? Hello?” There’s several muffled voices on the other end of the line and he’s about to hang up when he hears-

“Thanks again for letting me crash here guys.”

“Trea?”

“Of course sweetheart,” he hears Amanda say. He can hear the faint clink of dishes in the background, and looks at the clock on his bedside table. It’s a little before noon in Vegas, so they must be eating lunch.

“I promise I’ll be out of your hair as soon as possible I just. After everything that happened in Vegas going back to my empty apartment…”

“Would have sucked. We get it,” says Kristen.

“It’s hard. When you like someone as much as you like my boneheaded best friend and you think he doesn’t like you back,” Amanda says and Tony, he almost dies. There’s no way… they can’t be talking about him.

_But who else would they be talking about?_ asks a voice in the back of his head.

“It was a ridiculous situation, and it was… several uncharitable words that I’m not going to say in front of my new baby for your teammates to put you in that position,” says Kristen. She doesn’t sound as angry as Tony thought she would be.

“I can’t really blame Max and Gio,” Trea says. “But Zim and Mikey? They know how I feel about Tony. They might have thought they were helping, but he made it clear he doesn’t feel the same way I do.” There’s a long silence on the other end of the line.

“I’m sorry Trea. I really am.” Trea gives her a half hearted laugh.

“It’s okay Amanda. It’s not your fault. You can’t actually control Tony.” Amanda sighs.

“Maybe not. But while you’re here Kris and I are gonna take full advantage of your free babysitting abilities! We have a whole bunch of stuff we need to do and it’ll be great for baby Graciela to get in some quality time with her uncle Trea!” There’s movement on the other end of the line and the call ends abruptly. Tony flops back onto his pillows, his thoughts racing a million miles an hour.

He briefly considers the idea that the call was staged, but dismisses it as quickly as it comes. None of them are good enough actors for that, especially not Trea. Could he really have been that oblivious this whole time? Could Trea really have liked him as… more than a friend? He’d never given any indication that he did, at least not to Tony. But it sounded like Trea didn’t know how Tony felt about him which was, had to be, impossible. Everyone on the team knew. Hell it felt like the whole league knew most days. He’s a quiet guy sure, understated, but actions are supposed to speak louder than words and he’s never been reserved with his affection toward Trea.

But maybe, maybe that wasn’t enough? Maybe that was why Trea had been so blank, had run away when he woke up in Tony’s bed that morning. Maybe that’s why he ran across the country to Kristen and Amanda.

“Oh god,” Tony says out loud. “I think I fucked up.” He has half a mind to follow Trea, pack all of his shit and leave without a word, but he’s always been a little more pragmatic than that. Even if what he heard was true, and the longer he thinks about it the more he’s sure it is, he needs more confirmation than a conversation overheard on the phone by chance. He picks up his phone and dials the person who can help him.

“Hello?” asks Zim, sounding cautious.

“Get Max, Gio, and Mikey. And all of you be in my room as soon as possible. We need to talk.” He hangs up before Zim can answer. He gets out of bed and starts packing. If he’s right, and god he hopes he is, he hopes that he isn’t just projecting, he’s going to have to be ready to leave as soon as Zim and the rest explain themselves.

“I know yesterday I said I didn’t want to hear your excuses or justifications, but, well I changed my mind. So tell me. Why did you do it? Why did you do it when you know how I feel about Trea and you know that he doesn’t feel the same way?” He directs the last question at Zim and Mikey. If Trea was being honest and he told the two of them, Tony needs to hear it. There’s a long moment of incredibly uncomfortable silence before Mikey stands up.

“Tony man we were just trying to help. It was misguided, sure, but we were just trying to help. You gotta believe me man, I- none of us thought it would end up like this. And I am so so sorry,” he says, desperation in his voice and eyes. Tony puts a hand on his shoulder.

“I believe you Mikey. I do.” Mikey sags, his relief palpable. “But y’all aren’t forgiven. Not yet. I still want to know _why_ you thought it would help.” Mikey sits back down, and everyone stares at Zim. He sighs and grumbles something uncharitable under his breath.

“Tony. Do you remember… anything? From that night.”

“I remember being congratulated by an Elvis impersonator. I remember picking out those awful cheap rings and almost not being able to get back into my hotel room.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah, that’s it.” Zim sighs, looking heavenward like he’s asking God to give him patience. Which, Tony feels, is a little unnecessary. He’s not the one who’s spent the last couple days getting his heart tugged around on a string.

“Tony,” he says, looking him in the eye. “It was Trea’s idea.”

Every thought that Tony had flies out of his brain. He stares at Zim, his brain rebooting.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“It was Trea’s idea. You two were being… I don’t even know. What’s the right way to describe them and the way they were acting that night?”

“Nauseatingly cute?” Max suggests.

“Adorable and handsy?” from Gio.

“Like boyfriends?” says Mikey. Tony glares at all of them, trying hard not to blush. They all shrug.

“Yes, those are all wonderful descriptions of how you two were acting that night. Anyway, the whole team was together at the start of the night, and as it got later, we all sort of… split off. I was ready to call it a night when you and Trea came stumbling up to me, and Trea declared that you two were getting married. He said he had just thought of it, and wanted as many of us as possible to be there. I tried to talk both of you out of it, but you would not be swayed. Tony you called Mikey and said you wanted him there, and Max and Gio overheard you decided to come to. I was, by far, the most sober out of all of us, so I called us a cab to the nearest chapel. In the car Trea had said that this was, and I quote, ‘the best damn idea I’ve ever had in my life ever.’ And I guess you know the rest.”

“Yeah, you bribed the chapel staff to make sure nothing was binding and bought the security footage to make sure no rag got a hold of it. Thanks for that, by the way. I’m sure this being splashed on the front page of TMZ wouldn’t have made this any easier.” Zim nods at him. “You’re absolutely sure, and I mean _absolutely sure_ that it was his idea?”

“Yes,” Zim says. “I’m certain. He loves you, Tony.”

“Alright then,” he picks up his suitcase and tips an imaginary hat to his teammates before walking away.

“Where are you going?” asks Gio.

“I’m going to go get my boy,” says Tony, letting the door to his hotel room close behind him.

Despite his dramatic pronouncement and exit, Tony ends up not being able to get to Trea for a while. He has to stay the night at the airport, where he tells Zim to tell Davey that he left. He falls asleep at some point, and it’s only the crick in his neck that wakes him up in time to make his six am flight. Their take-off is delayed for close to an hour, and there isn’t an available gate for them at Miami International, so they taxi on the runway for another forty-five minutes there. He gets his luggage but he has to wait a half hour in the Miami heat for his Uber to find the right place to pick him up. He looks, and feels, like he’s been dragged across the country by his hair and as he sits in traffic on I-95 he starts to worry that maybe the universe is trying to tell him that he shouldn’t be doing this.

He convinces the driver to drop him off at motel near Kristen and Amanda’s house, and he says a silent prayer that he knows this part of Miami almost as well as he knows DC or Houston. He looks around his pitiful motel room and can’t help but compare it to the place he was in twenty-four hours ago.

“The things we do for love,” he says, shaking his head. He showers, glad he requested extra shampoo and conditioner at the front desk when he checked in. It takes two bottles each to get his hair feeling normal again, and he stands under the hot water until it goes cold. He raids the poor snack selection and sits on his bed, in a towel, eating slightly stale potato chips. He’s exhausted, but he’s also wired, and he knows the longer he stays in this motel room the less likely he’ll keep up the courage he had in Vegas. He dries his hair, brushes his teeth, and puts on clean clothes. He looks at himself in the bathroom mirror.

“Do not fuck this up,” he tells his reflection. He calls an Uber and grabs his wallet, taking the outdoor stairs instead of the elevator in the hopes of expelling some of his nervous energy. The ten minute drive to Amanda and Kristen’s house feels both like an eternity and a nanosecond, and before he knows it, his car has driven off, and he’s on their front stoop. He rings the doorbell. He doesn’t hear anything on the other side of the door, and he wipes his hands on his jeans. Damn the Miami heat for making his hands sweaty. He resists the urge to ring their doorbell a thousand more times and is abruptly reminded of how he felt when he picked up his then-girlfriend from her house for their senior prom. He supposes it’s the same sort of situation, just with slightly higher stakes. The door opens and he’s face to face with Amanda. She doesn’t say anything, just looks him up and down and raises an eyebrow before she opens the door to let him in. He feels like he’s walking into the lion’s den, and feels a connection with Daniel that he never had before.

“Kris! Are you and Graciela ready for Gymboree class?” Amanda calls as she closes the door behind him.

“Gymboree class?” Kristen asks, walking into the entryway. “She doesn’t have - ooooooooh yeah,” she says, breaking off when she sees Tony. “Gymboree. Right. Let me just, grab Gracie. And then we can go.” She walks away.

“Is he home?” Tony asks Amanda. Clearly they know what’s going on and he doesn’t feel like beating around the bush.

“He went out for a run. He should be back in a couple minutes.” They stand in silence in her entryway for a moment before a thought hits Tony.

“You called me on purpose, didn’t you?” She looks at him as Kristen walks back out, Graciela in her baby carrier.

“Don’t fuck it up Tone,” she says, kissing him on the cheek. Kristen gives him a thumbs up before they walk out together.

He sits on a sofa in their living room and mindlessly scrolls through Twitter. Amanda had said Trea would be back in a couple of minutes, but Tony knows him. When he’s in his head he can say he’ll be back in a few minutes and stay at the gym or running for another hour. He has Trea on Find My Friends, and could see how far he is from the house, but that feels like an invasion of privacy. So instead Tony puts his phone down and paces, trying to think of what he’ll say to Trea. He sees Trea jog into the backyard through the sliding glass doors and freezes. His hair is plastered to his forehead and his shirt is more like a second skin. His eyes are red, like he had been crying earlier, and it breaks Tony’s heart. He’s got his eyes on his phone, so he doesn’t see Tony until he’s inside and has slid the door shut behind him. He pulls his earbuds out and looks up, stopping when he sees Tony. They look at each other for a minute before Tony breaks the silence.

“Trea. Hey man,” he takes a half step forward, a half step towards him, and Trea moves sideways away from him. Tony’s pretty sure getting hit with a ninety-nine mph fastball would have hurt less. He stops where he is and Trea walks to the sink to fill a glass. He takes a long drink before he talks.

“What’re you doing here?” He’s tense, his shoulders hunched, his jaw clenched, and he angled his body away from Tony. He isn’t looking at him. Tony rapidly readjusts his plan, it looks like he fucked up more than he originally thought and is going to have to do more damage control because of it.

“I’m here to see you man. We need to, we should, talk. About what happened in Vegas.”

“Nah, I think we’re good. I picked up everything you were putting down. We’re on the same page here. Sorry you wasted a flight out here.” He’s still staring at a section of the living room wall just to the left of Tony’s head. His hands are gripping the edge of the countertop, and Tony can see his white knuckles from his position behind the sofa.

“See that’s the problem man. We’re not-”

“We’re not anything, Tony.” he says, his voice thin. “Not anything besides friends. It was just some stupid prank. The guys think they’re funny, what else is new.”

“Trea that’s not what I-”

“I don’t know where Amanda, Kris, and Gracie went, but I’ll tell them that something came up and you couldn’t stay.”

“Trea I-”

“You said not to shut you out forever, and I’m not planning on it. I just wanted to see Gracie. I’m sure she’ll be old enough to fly with Amanda the next time she comes out to Houston or DC.” Trea still isn’t looking at him, and Tony can feel his patience starting to fray. He’s had an exceptionally long few days, with more ups and downs than the world’s craziest roller coaster, and he would like to be able to get a word in edgewise in this conversation.

“Dude, please, you gotta-”

“Saw you didn’t bring a bag. That mean you’re staying at the Comfort Inn a couple minutes-”

“TREA!” Tony shouts. Trea shuts his mouth with an audible click but still. Doesn’t. Look. At. Tony. He takes a deep breath and reigns in his fraying nerves. “Damn man. Has anyone ever told you that you are… really stupid?” he says with a chuckle. Trea’s eyes snap to Tony, and oh boy does he look angry.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean Anthony?” he spits.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he says, walking around the couch and into the kitchen so that he’s directly across the counter from Trea, who is now staring him down, eyes bright with anger and unshed tears. “It _means_ that do you really think that I would leave my team, my best friends, celebrating our first ever World Series win on an all expenses paid trip to Las Vegas, sleep in an airport chair so I could make a six am cross country flight, and then come here so I could tell you that we really are _just friends_?”

Trea’s face has gone blank, the same blank that it was in his hotel room a lifetime ago, and Tony wants to kick himself. He knows that face, he knows it like he knows all of Trea’s other expressions. He’s got his guarded blank face on. The face he gives reporters when he doesn’t want to give away how much a bad game or disparaging article gets to him, the face he gives management after he gets caught for a clubhouse pranks and refuses to narc on his teammates. If Tony hadn’t been so wrapped up in all of his own feelings maybe he would have noticed and spared them both some heartbreak. But that doesn’t matter anymore. What matters now is that he’s here, and he’s going to make this right.

“What are you saying?” Trea asks, his voice guarded.

“I’m saying. I’m saying I thought you knew, man. I thought you knew and didn’t feel the same way but didn’t want to hurt me by bringing it up. I thought since practically everyone in the clubhouse knew that you knew too. I thought it was obvious. I thought _I_ was obvious. I thought you knew. I really did.”

“You thought I knew what?” Trea’s eyes are searching his face, looking for any sign that Tony is fucking with him, and he’s got the first notes of cautious hope in his voice.

“I thought you knew that I love you. That I’ve always loved you, that I’ve been half in love with you since you wore my face on your t-shirt. I thought you knew that you’re the only one for me, that you’re the only one I want. I love you, Trea Turner. And I am sorry that it took all this bullshit for me to finally man up and tell you.”

“That is… hilarious, because I thought the same thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I thought you knew, I thought everyone knew. And I thought you didn’t feel the same way.” Tony chuckles and bows his head.

“Well then, I guess we deserve each other huh? A couple of idiots who tell each other everything except for the most important thing.” He looks up at Trea and sees a fire in his eyes, the anger from just a moment ago replaced with something deeper. Tony can’t look away.

“You know,” Trea says, a smile forming on his face. “In my head, I was always the one that made the big romantic declaration. I had all these speeches in my head, telling you everything I love about you, how much I love you, and you just had to come in and steal my thunder.”

“Well I’m certainly not opposed to hearing them now,” says Tony. The air around them is becoming steadily more charged, the tension around them thick enough to cut with a knife, but Tony is terrified to move, afraid the moment will shatter.

“Hmmmm,” Trea says, making an exaggerated thinking face as he walks around the island. “I love your hair. I love your ridiculous hick accent. I love your loyalty and your humility. I love the way you make anyone and everyone feel at home in the clubhouse. I love that you’ve felt more like home than my apartment in Raleigh has. I love your arms. I love the way you play ball, but don’t let it consume you. I love watching you watch basketball games. I love the way you blush when people tell you that you’re the best third baseman in the game. I love the way you snort when you laugh and your tirades against American tacos.” He’s standing in front of Tony now, and he’s so close. Tony wants to reach out and touch him, but he is seized with the irrational fear that maybe he’s dreaming again.

“But the most important thing I love about you. Is everything. I love you and everything about you.”

“Say it again?” Tony says, his voice hoarse. Trea gives him a blinding smile and leans in, resting his forehead against Tony’s.

“I love you,” he says. “I love you so much.”

“Fuck,” Tony breathes and the spell holding him in place is broken. His arms, hanging uselessly at his sides, wrap around Trea’s waist, pulling him closer so that they’re pressed up against each other. He tilts his head up slightly, and kisses Trea. It’s soft at first, slow and sweet like honey. He’s practically hugging Trea, with his arms wrapped around his middle, and Trea has both hands on the edge of the counter, boxing Tony in. They stay like that for an eternity, the moment captured in amber forever.

Tony bites at Trea’s bottom lip, and he growls, deep in the back of his throat before opening his mouth. They trade open mouthed kisses for a while, and Tony is desperately thankful that he brushed his teeth in his hotel room. He’s hard in his jeans, and he can feel Trea through the thin fabric of his running shorts. He wants to suggest taking this to Amanda and Kristen’s guest room, he knows where it is and he knows that’s where Trea’s been sleeping, but then Trea sucks a hickey underneath Tony’s ear, right by the bolt of his jaw, and all coherent thought flies out the window. He kisses all down his throat, sucking hickeys all the while.

“Mine,” he says, when he goes to kiss Tony again, and he goes weak in the knees. Trea goes to his knees and makes quick work of his pants, shoving them down around his thighs. He kisses Tony’s hip before getting his mouth around him. Tony groans, his eyes falling closed and tilting his head back. Trea has an iron grip on his hips, and Tony is sure he’s going to have bruises in the shape of Trea’s fingers in the morning. He tangles his fingers in Trea’s hair, not pulling just to keep as much contact as possible. Trea bobs up and down, swirling his tongue around Tony the way he knows he likes. He uses his teeth, just a little, just enough to feel good, and Tony hisses. His thighs are shaking, and he knows he isn’t going to last much longer.

“Trea,” he croaks out. “Trea I’m not-” Trea hollows out his cheeks as he pulls off Tony with a pop. His lips are red, kiss swollen, and spit shiny and he’s looking up at Tony through his eyelashes, resting on his heels. He’s got a devious glint in his eyes, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to Tony, the bastard.

“You were saying?”

“We shouldn’t. What if the girls come back?”

“Well then, I guess I just gotta make quick work of you.” He smiles again, and wraps his lips around the head of Tony’s dick.

“Ah, fuck,” he says. He tugs on Trea’s hair, pulling him forward, and Trea goes eagerly. Tony can feel it coming, building at the base of his spine and he wants to warn Trea, but he can’t string together a coherent thought, much less a sentence. Trea pulls off him again, and Tony all but whimpers, but he gets a hand around him and pulls, once, twice, before Tony is coming with a shout. And Trea, closes his eyes and lets it get all over his face, on his eyelashes, his cheekbones, and around his mouth. He lets go of Tony’s hips and he sinks down to the floor, so he and Trea are on the same level.

“You got a porn star past you ain’t tellin me about man?” he asks, his accent coming through thicker than normal. Trea takes his shirt off and wipes his face, grinning.

“We all have our secrets,” he says. Tony shoves him and they both laugh. Tony tucks himself back in his pants, and Trea rests his head against Tony’s shoulder, their backs against the island. Tony brings an arm up, wraps it around Trea’s shoulders and uses his hand to card through his hair. Trea gives a contented hum and they sit there in silence for a minute while Tony waits for feeling to come back to his legs. He presses a kiss to the top of Trea’s head.

“We gotta get up, can’t be like this when the girls come home.” Trea nods and stands up, offering his hand to pull up Tony. He smiles and kisses Trea once he’s standing. He’s still half hard, which is just unacceptable. He pulls Trea to the guest bedroom, and the door swings shut behind them before he pins him against it and kisses him senseless.

“Hey,” Tony says, when they break apart. “Guess what?”

“What?” Trea asks, looking a little dazed.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Tony’s halfway to his knees when Trea puts his hand on his shoulder.

“Wait,” he says, sounding almost shy. Tony looks up at him, a question in his eyes. “I uh,” Trea swallows. “I want you.” Tony stands up.

“You’ve got me,” he says, kissing Trea. “You got stuff for that?”

“Uh I’ve got lube but I don’t have condoms.” Tony raises an eyebrow at him and Trea blushes.

“Well that’s certainly interesting, but that doesn’t really help us does it?”

“It might. I mean maybe. Whatever, it’s fine.”

“Hey, talk to me. How would that help us?” Trea ducks his head, blushing harder.

“I haven’t… been with anyone else since we started sleeping together last season. And I just got tested, I uh. I don’t have anything.” Tony stares at him for a second before he bursts into laughter. “What?” Trea asks, a little hurt.

“Nothing, it’s just. Wow we really are idiots huh?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I haven’t been with anyone else either.”

“What?” Trea asks, dumbstruck. “What about that guy from the Royals from last season?” Tony looks at him, confused.

“The guy from the Royals? Who? Salvy?”

“I think so? The guys spent ages teasing you about it the next morning.”

“That’s right! They did, the assholes. Salvy is an old friend of mine, man. We came up together. He was just staying at my place during the series rather than be in the hotel with the rest of his team.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Really.”

“Wow, we really are stupid as hell, aren’t we?”

“We are,” says Tony. “But that doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is that I got tested before the Series and I don’t have anything either. So I guess all we need is lube.”

“Good thing we have some then,” Trea says. Tony steps away, and Trea goes to his suitcase to grab the little bottle. He turns around in time to see Tony take off his shirt and jeans, leaving him in only his boxers. Trea’s mouth goes dry. “God,” he says. “You’re so beautiful.” Tony rolls his eyes despite the blush creeping up on his neck.

“Man just take your clothes off.” He does, and sits on the bed, trying not to look like the over excited teenager he feels like. “Lie down.” He does, the bottle gripped in his hand. Tony takes it from him and then slowly and methodically takes Trea apart.

He kisses Trea until he’s squirming, then makes his way down his throat and chest, tasting the tang of the sweat from his run that dried on his skin. He scrapes his teeth across Trea’s nipple, making his hips buck up. He leaves hickeys down Trea’s throat and chest, paying him back for earlier. He mouths at Trea’s dick through his underwear before kissing his way back up to his mouth.

“Lift your hips up,” he says and Trea complies so Tony can tug his underwear off and toss them somewhere on the floor. Tony lost his own underwear at some point, while Trea was too busy to notice. “Roll over.” He does and Tony kisses down his back, the backs of his thighs. He smacks Trea on the ass, and he whimpers. He eats Trea out until he’s panting and red faced.

“Tony, I swear on all that is holy,” he says, breathless. Tony just hums and Trea almost vibrates out of his skin. “Please,” he says.

“If you say so.” He smacks him on the ass again. “Roll over. I wanna see you.” He does, and Tony grabs a pillow from the head of the bed to stick under Trea. He squirts lube on himself, hissing at the cold, before he lines himself up with Trea and slowly pushes himself in. He stays still for a bit, giving Trea time to adjust. They hadn’t done this since before the World Series. “You okay?” he asks.

“I’ll be better once you start moving,” Trea says. Tony leans over, making Trea widen his legs, so that they’re chest to chest. He braces himself on his elbows by Trea’s head and Trea wraps his legs around Tony’s waist, locking his ankles on the small of his back. Tony kisses him, pulls out, and pushes back in. Trea’s breath hitches, and his eyes flutter close as Tony picks up a rhythm. He’s not going to last very long, he knows. He’s been half on edge for what feels like hours.

“Wish you could see yourself like this,” Tony murmurs. “Ya make such a pretty picture. My favorite thing to look at,” he drawls. He kisses Trea again, picking up his pace, and Trea pushes his hips up to meet him thrust for thrust. Tony takes his earlobe between his teeth, punctuating it with a sharp thrust and Trea is gone.

He comes with a shout, light exploding behind his eyes and he feels Tony follow him. They lay like that, Tony on top of him, both of them panting until Tony gets his breath back. Trea hisses when he pulls out and cracks an eye open when he feels Tony get off the bed. He comes back with a damp washcloth, and cleans Trea off. He takes the pillowcase off the pillow that was under his hips and toss both in the corner where both of their clothes ended up.

He crawls back into bed with Trea, wrapping an arm around him, and Trea puts his head on Tony’s chest. Tony pulls the comforter up around them and they fall asleep in each other’s arms as the sun goes down.

 

“You know,” says Amanda, sipping her coffee on the patio of her favorite coffee shop. “I haven’t been sexiled since I was in college. And I’ve certainly never been sexiled by my best friend and my wife’s best friend in our own home. It’s a novel experience.” Kristen laughs.

“I was usually the one doing the sexiling. I was almost never sexiled. Especially since Trea and I moved in together our junior year.”

“That doesn’t surprise me at all my love.” She checks the time. “Think it’s safe to go back? It is almost nightfall after all.”

“We should be safe,” Kristen says. “But I’ll enter loudly before you and Gracie. Just in case.”

“Wow I married such a brave woman,” Amanda says with a smile, leaning over to kiss her.

“You sure did. Once more into the breach?”

“Lead the way.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you're curious about what happened with Joe Kelly and the Red Sox, I suggest you read mitzvahmelting's wonderfully explicit fic (https://archiveofourown.org/works/16634042). The Salvy from the Royals is Salvador Perez, in case anyone was curious. Did he and Tony come up together? Almost certainly not, but I picked a random player on a random team and he was what I came up with. Thanks for reading! Lemme know what y'all thought.


End file.
